Pansyiana: September 2006 Archives

But I have nothing. Everyone else has clever things to say about current event issues and I have nothing of great intelligence to add.

This is the only thing on my mind lately:

Fastolph: Moooo---oooooom! Posco called me Stupid Feet!

Me:Excuse me?

Fastolph:He...called...me...Stupid Feet!

Me: Um, wow. I am very sorry he called you Stupid Feet. (Trying to comprehend exactly what that means. He didn't say Posco "said I have have stupid feet," but he called him stupid feet. So far it sounds like the dumbest insult in the history of the world.)

Fastolph:Oh, so what? You think it's OK for him to call me Stupid Feet? You agree with him?

Me:No, of course not. But Fastolph, can you tell me what that means?

Fastolph: puts his head down and shrugs shoulders I don't know.

I had an OB/Gyn check-up yesterday, and all looks well. I still have not gained any weight, which I am cooler with than my doctor. I mean if I cannot eat chocolate, is there anything to eat in life? Let me think about that a sec...No. Nope, I don't think so.

My finger stick numbers have still been really good, but they are starting to creep up. This morning I really, really wanted oatmeal. A few weeks ago, the same recipe of oatmeal had me around 119 after an hour, today it was 156. Oops. (For the gestationally diabetic illiterate, one hour finger sticks are supposed to range from 90-130). So I may need a bit of insulin towards the end. I don't mind because it allows me to eat. (And I also get a strange enjoyment out of grossing my family out by sticking needles in my stomach before dinner.) Before I was on insulin when I was pregnant with Fredregar, a quarter cup of brown rice sent my sugars on a tail spin.

I also have dreadful insomnia. Our house never really shuts down at night. There are always bathroom trips, people sleep walking, babies getting up, and whenever there is a disturbance, I am up. I don't want to be up, but there I am-up.

Health issues aside (which are very good, Deo Gratias), I am getting big. I went to Tar-zhey to look at some maternity clothes. I have none. I packed them all away in a special maternity clothes been for the next time around, and I think my husband mistook it for a different bin and shipped it to the Salvation Army. So someone is enjoying my cute, black maternity halter dress at an economical price. I think maternity clothes are the biggest rip off in the history of the world. You wear them for a few months and that's it. But you need them because you don't want to go through life in your husband's sweat shirts. So you know what I bought today? A set of sweats. I almost cried spending money on a friggin' set of maternity sweats. I needed something casual to do my morning run, er morning walk, morning waddle in. And just to be around the house. Everything else was really, really nice, but a bit too nice for homeschooling and peanut butter sandwiches.

I have to get on the phone and call my midwife so I can get the birth plans in order.

Fredegar had his first dental appointment yesterday. It was actually quite cute because he refused to open his mouth. The cute wasn't the non-mouth opening, it was that typical baby confusion when confronted with something completely new. I never get tired of that. He didn't fuss or complain, and the dental hygenist gave him a new toothbrush and tried very hard to get him to open, and he did for a few seconds under protest.

I watched him knowing what was going through his little mind. He was ticked off. First I woke him up early (the appointment was at 8 AM), and he, like RoseyPosey and my husband are not morning people. So that annoyed him. Then he had these weird people trying to see his teeth. The situation looked a lot like when the vet tries to look at a dog's teeth, and all you get is a glimpse of a canine and a gum because all the dog will allow is the vet to lift up his lip, and pull their head away.

Before going into the office, I had to fill out all that fun paperwork, you know, medical history, insurance info, the really exciting stuff. Part of one of their many three-page questionnaires was "What is your ethnicity? (circle one)". Then it went one to list races, not ethnicities: caucasian, hispanic, asian, native american, or black. I hate this question because I find it useless and devisive. I hate that they are too stupid to know the difference between a race and ethnicity, and I hate that after they have the nerve to ask, then they tell you to "circle one". So according to them, I have to decide if my mother's, or husband's, or father's blood is more important, and I have to do so to make them more comfortable with what I am. If that is the case, then they should ask "What is your race?" and have one choice: "human". Wow, imagine that, we will all pick the same thing! So, sometimes I pick "other", but there is usually a disclosure that says if I refuse to pick, then whoever takes the paperwork will make a judgement on what I look like and pick for me, so I circled everything except "native american".

The next question was "what is your primary language?" Okay, I can see the fairness of this. There is a large Hispanic community here, the Amish community is not that far, so if they need a translator, this knowledge might be of some service. I chose English because that is the right answer. But the next question annoyed me again: "what is your secondary language?" How is this pertinent to my son's dental care? It's not. If I can communicate and understand "brush everyday and no fruit snacks" with ease, who cares? So I thought of writing "ecclesiastical Latin" in the "other" box, but decided against it because despite trying to teach it in our homeschool for years now and attending Latin mass, it just isn't very good. So that would be a bit misleading. My husband was dissappointed that I didn't.

Next are they going to ask "what kind of ethnic food do you like to eat," and have the choices "curry and roti", "beans and rice", "lasagna" and I would write "pancakes, sausage and maple syrup" in the "other" category because although it seems like basic American food, it is ethnic American food. Trying to find a place that serves pancakes for breakfast in many other countries is like trying to find Pat Thai in the middle of the country roads of upstate NY.

I was just very grateful my husband was not with me so she could state the usual "your boyfriend can come in too" when she announced they were ready for Fredegar's appointment.